Spur of the Moment
by Roschelle Templar
Summary: Life as a country vet often doesn't make allowances for things like birthday plans. Fortunately for Siegfried, he still has his family he can count on.


Spur of the Moment

 **Author's note:** This was the result of a prompt fic request where I had to come up with something based off the words "pigeon" and "birthday". It takes place before _The Last Furlough_ (Episode 1.09).

* * *

Siegfried Farnon always considered himself to be a lover of all animals.

Of course, the training he received to become a vet couldn't cover every living thing. The main focus of study had been farm animals with small animals only receiving brief mentions and exotics animals no mention at all. He had had to pursue his own independent studies just to develop a more comprehensive understanding of small animals like cats and dogs. His fellows at the college thought he was wasting his time, but Siegfried was convinced that the future of veterinary medicine lie in diversification from farm animals.

That and Siegfried simply was interested in expanding his body of knowledge whenever he could. So while many people he studied with only showed an interest for limited categories of animals such as pigs or sheep, Siegfried developed an affection for all the animals he encountered during his studies and then his professional work.

Today, however, was a severe test of that affection. Specifically, any affection he could have for pigeons.

Siegfried sighed as he gingerly took off his jacket and then his waistcoat. He dreaded the moment when Mrs. Hall saw what had become of his suit. It was going to take more than a typical washing to get those stains out. He considered simply tossing it out to be burned, but was reluctant to part with one of his better suits. Siegfried hoped Mrs. Hall would understand. She usually did.

All and all, it wasn't the best start to his birthday. Then again, a visit to Boggs' farm would be a good start to anyone's day.

Boggs had already been an irritating client for years. Stubborn and far more miserly than the typical tight-fisted farmer, Boggs had an affinity for all sorts of bird farming and not much talent for it. Chickens and turkeys were his usual stock, but recently, he decided to try adding pigeons to his farm.

Not surprisingly, it wasn't long before that clipped, belligerent voice was on the phone at Skeldale, demanding a visit to see why some of his pigeons had "their heads bent odd like." Tristan was away at college, hopefully to actually pass some of his exams this time, and James was already handling an injured cow at Handshaw's farm. Which meant that Siegfried had no choice but to go himself.

Siegfried sighed again as he finished making a neat pile of his clothes into a hamper. He had hoped that he would be able to finish up early and head over to Brawton. It was his birthday after all, and while he had appreciated the lovely gift James and Helen had given him and the delicious cake Mrs. Hall had served him that afternoon, Siegfried had hoped that he could arrange for some female company to join him for dinner. It would be the perfect way to spend what should be an enjoyable evening.

He'd even called a lady he had recently met at the Reniston earlier that morning to see if she would be free in the evening. She had seemed agreeable to the idea and told him to call her again late afternoon if he did end up being free for dinner.

However, Siegfried knew from the moment he received Boggs' call, that this had the potential to derail his plans. As he drove over, he tried clinging to the hope that this would turn out to be a minor concern that could easily be handed by dispensing some medicine and sound advice. Both of which, Siegfried knew, would be received with no gratitude at all.

That hope seemed a little brighter when he first arrived and diagnosed the problem as soon as he saw one of the afflicted pigeons.

"I'm afraid it's _paratyphoid_ ," Siegfried said. "You might have heard something about a disease called salmonella in the Min of Ag's literature recently?"

"Aye…but how can ye be sure that's what they got?" Boggs said, eying him coldly.

Siegfried patted the head of the bird in his hands. "Look at this neck. How it's twisted to the side. That's a classic symptom of _paratyphoid_. And given your propensity to not act with any haste when your birds show any sign of illness, I'm certain that this is not the only pigeon that's been infected."

"Aye…there might be some others like 'im," Boggs groused. "So what are ye going to do about it?"

"I can give you some medicine," Siegfried said. "But I'm afraid you are probably going to lose some of them. The most important thing you can do right now is isolate the infected birds and thoroughly clean your loft."

"Aye, but how will I know which birds have got it?" Boggs inquired. "Only a couple of them have that funny neck."

"There are other symptoms," Siegfried said. "Show me your birds, and I'll see if I can point them out to you."

Unfortunately, Siegfried ended up opening a Pandora's Box as soon as those words left his mouth. Instead of guiding him toward the suspect birds, Boggs decided that an inspection of all of them would be necessary. A thorough inspection that involved pecking beaks, near constant squawking and plenty of foul, greenish droppings landing on Siegfried as he passed by them.

By the end of it, Siegfried had managed to locate all of the sick birds…and become thoroughly covered in feathers and pigeon muck. The fact that Boggs' clothes were untouched by feces did not escape Siegfried's notice.

"Aye, and that medicine ye gave me better work," Boggs had scolded as Siegfried left. "Or I won't be paying ye that fat bill ye'll be charging."

By the time Siegfried returned to Skeldale, he was more disenchanted than frustrated. He doubted that Boggs would follow his instructions to the letter which meant more birds than necessary were going to die and Boggs would continue to be ungrateful for the assistance he received from the practice. Not that Siegfried always expected any appreciation for his efforts. He knew better than that by now.

Still, there were days when he wondered if his efforts held any meaning for anyone besides himself. Today, with his evening and his suit ruined, was certainly one of those days.

After a quick bath, Siegfried changed into another suit and went down to the living room. James was out on a call to Gilling's place and Helen had gone with him to visit the Myatts who were camping on the grounds again. It wasn't the most appealing prospect, but Siegfried resigned himself to some whiskey and a good book by the fire. Maybe if James and Helen came home early enough, they could join him.

When he walked into the living room, however, he was greeted with a surprise: a small parcel wrapped in bright blue paper was sitting on the stand in front of the tantalus. There was a tag attached with his name on it, and Siegfried approached it with an eyebrow arched in curiosity.

He tore off the paper and opened the box to find a simple, yet elegant watch chain inside.

Siegfried blinked in surprise. His own watch chain had broken recently due to an accident while on call to a farrowing. He had planned to buy a replacement as soon as possible, but unexpected car repairs had gotten in the way. At the time, he'd been deeply disappointed by the delay as his watch had been a gift from Father and he hated to be without it.

Now, his problem had been solved, albeit mysteriously.

Siegfried inspected the tag attached to the gift again. There was no other name on it and the words were printed in an odd block style font. Obviously, an attempt to disguise the handwriting.

Not that it did much good. Siegfried was still able to figure out who had written it within seconds of reading it.

' _Tristan….'_

Siegfried smiled. Even though it wasn't an especially fancy watch chain, it clearly was a quality one, and he wondered how Tristan had been able to afford it. Probably had to take out everything he had in savings to get it on such short notice.

That was just like his little brother. To spend every cent he had in the spur of the moment. To do something completely impractical and sentimental.

To somehow know about what would mean the most to Siegfried on a day like today.

Siegfried held the chain in his hands. He hadn't seen Tristan around Skeldale and wondered when his little brother had come back from Edinburgh. Then he pulled his watch out of his pocket to consult it.

' _Still a couple hours to closing time,'_ he mused. _'I wonder….'_

Siegfried's grin grew as he attached the new chain to his watch. He gazed at it for one more minute before stuffing his watch back into his pocket and heading out the door to search for Tristan at the Drovers.

Perhaps the evening could be salvaged after all.


End file.
